Magical Encounters
by overcaffeinated-irony
Summary: "I am not one to pry," Magnus went on,"but there aren't many warlocks that I'm not at least slightly acquainted with. Under that stoic shell of yours, I bet there's a party animal trying to penetrate the surface." For the first time that night, Benedikt smiled. "Don't ever say penetrate again." ((OC Oneshot. No pairing. Just a story about Magnus trying to make Benny party.))


"Magical Encounters"

The book snapped shut abruptly with a loud _thwap._ Benedikt hated being interrupted, especially when he was attempting to read. He only had three more chapters to finish before he had read the entire book. It may be the seventh time he has finished it, but that was of no matter. Edgar Allan Poe was a brilliant man, even if he was but a mundane during his short, forty-something years of life.

When Benedikt found one large book, titled _Works of Poe_ , which, as presumed, housed everything the man has written, from short stories to poems, he knew he had to own it. He had only recently purchased the item, but he couldn't put it down. Poe's enthralling use of the macabre was so irresistibly sinful that it was deliciously captivating, even to an almost four-hundred year old warlock such as himself.

A harsh rapping awoke him back into reality and viciously tore him away from his mental admiration of the deceased author. His lips pulled away from his glistening white teeth slightly. It was less of a smile and more of a crooked grimace. _Okay,_ the purple skinned male thought as delicate fingers placed the heavy book on a nearby side table, _I'm coming. I'm coming._

Benedikt arose with a calculated form of grace, his long and slender appendages working meticulously. He moved to the door with refined fluidity, taking no time to throw open the door and assess just who has _blessed_ the warlock with their ever impending presence. The sight before him was actually somewhat surprising, and just for a fraction of a moment he gave pause. It was only a second, however, and he only let the initial shock flicker behind his magenta irises, that of which were somewhat shielded by a pair of black Ray-Bans.

Magnus Bane stood before him; wearing a lopsided grin and some sort of strung together attire that Benedikt could only imagine seeing someone wear if they were an experienced _Burlesque_ dancer. Benedikt's jaw ticked irritably and he pursed his lips. His tongue danced behind his teeth but he refrained from making a comment that he may end up regretting later. In truth, Magnus's choice of clothing was a bit tight-fitting and hugged his slim figure exceedingly well, but it was no more revealing than what he normally wears. Benedikt was a bit uptight and, if Magnus had to give his opinion on the matter, he would say the other looked ready to go into an office complex and do paper work every hour of every day, so his views on things such as fashion were biased at the very least.

But that was neither here nor there. Magnus's smiled widened, revealing his pearly white teeth. His eyes sparkled with something that Benedikt was unable to place. Or, perhaps it was the blue glitter around his golden, mischievous eyes that made it appear he was up to something. Benedikt kept his front door open but remained in the archway, prohibiting Magnus from entering. His sharp eyebrows drew to the middle of his forehead. He debated putting a glamour on to better hide his lavender skin and pointed ears, but assumed it meaningless and continued to stare down the other Downworlder. Eventually, it was Magnus who spoke first.

"Benny," he cooed and the atrocious nickname made Benedikt visibly cringe, "how are you?" He smiled innocently. It was difficult to believe that such an expression could belong to a being that was possibly grazing the age of eight-hundred. He looked to be an average nineteen year old boy, bursting with life and energy and ready to tackle anything and everything that Life dare gamble at throwing his way. Benedikt's stomach lurched for a reason that he wasn't entirely sure of.

"Enough with the formalities, Bane." He snapped, voice clipped. "Why are you here? Surely you didn't only drop by to offer a greeting." He hadn't intended to sound so frustrated, but he made no attempt to conceal his growing agitation. Benedikt had at least known of Magnus Bane for as long as he could recall and had only officially met him recently at one of his parties. A friend of Benedikt's- a Shadowhunter girl who means well but can get a little over her head- forced him out, saying lude things such as, "If you don't get your ass out of here so help me I might _freaking kill you_." He found her threats ludicrous and hardly palpable but went along anyway in hopes of deterring her anger away from him. It worked, for a time.

Magnus tilted his head before responding to Benedikt's earlier inquiry, "My, you seem _especially_ exultant this fine Friday evening." His voice dripped with confident sarcasm and Benedikt did not appreciate such wit. The left side of his mouth twitched. If Magnus noticed he made no sign of it, for he continued, voice taking on a slightly more serious tone.

"Look. When we met at the party, I couldn't help but want to get to know you, if only a little better." It was a trial to keep his face emotionless, and Benedikt hoped the confusion dancing behind his eyes wasn't as painfully obvious as he thought it might be. He subconsciously tightened the black bowtie that fell over a white button down shirt, and then toyed with the hem of his loose burgundy sweater that went under the tie. It was just something to keep his hands busy so he wouldn't look as uncomfortable as he felt. The act was a sad one at best.

"I can tell you're not one for social interactions, and I am not one to pry," Magnus went on, sparing Benedikt from speaking, "but there aren't many warlocks that I'm not at least slightly acquainted with, and there are even less that I don't have on speed dial." He offered an easy smile to acknowledge his slight jest. Still, Benedikt wouldn't put it past Magnus to have his contacts filled with warlocks from nefarious places all over the globe.

"Under that stoic shell of yours, I bet there's a raging party animal just trying to penetrate the surface."

For the first time that night, Benedikt smiled- however slight it might have been. "Please," he started as his throat stifled a chuckle, "don't ever say 'penetrate' around me again."

Magnus laughed. It was a light sound but it held lots of emotions beneath the tinkling quietness of it. He could see that Benedikt was letting up, just a little.  
Well, a little was all Magnus Bane needed.

"Agreed. But on one condition." He held up two perfectly painted black fingernails. Benedikt quirked an eyebrow, curious as to what he could be getting at. That's when the envelope appeared out of nowhere between the slender phalanges, stamped with a familiar looking MB. His cat-like eyes gleamed as he extended his tan arm, holding the letter out. The grin on his face made Benedikt understand why that Shadowhunter boy with the blue eyes was so keen on him.

He tentatively took the piece of folded parchment from Magnus, holding it with fingers he had to tighten to keep from trembling.

"Alec and I are having a party tomorrow night, seven o'clock sharp. It's okay to be fashionably late but there is no such thing as fashionably early. During the hours of ten AM to six PM, we're having us time."

Not wanting Magnus to elaborate upon what "us time" could entail, Benedikt cleared his throat.

"Alright. I will… think about it."  
"That is all I can ask."

Their eyes locked and Benedikt nodded curtly. He held up the envelope that with each movement shed flecks of silver glitter. "I appreciate the invitation. If you don't see me there, don't take it as a personal offense. As you have rightly put, I am not one for social interactions. It is nothing against you."

"I will attempt to see it that way." Magnus winked and spun on his heels, away from Benedikt's quaint abode and presumably to his own apartment building. Before he left, he tossed over his shoulder, "I'm telling you though, it's going to be pretty sweet. When my hunky Shadowhunter decides to help host a party, you know it's the real deal." Then he was gone, making his way down the sidewalk and away from Benedikt.

He stood in the doorway looking at the envelope for a while longer before retreating back inside and shutting the door with a soft, hardly audible _click._ He wasn't going to go. There was no way he even _could_ go. Magnus wasn't a bad guy by any means, but Benedikt had no real interest in becoming friends with him. He didn't mind not having any real warlock acquaintances. He had Aurora (the Shadowhunter girl), and… others in which he tossed casual conversations to. That was all Benedikt needed.

Still, Magnus did come all this way simply to invite him in person. That was a kind gesture that should not be overlooked nor ignored. Benedikt's icy gaze flickered down to the white letter still clutched in unsure hands and he nibbled gently on his bottom lip thoughtfully.

 _Yes. No. Yes, absolutely… no, positively not. Yes, sure. No, what?_ His brain swam with thoughts and opinions and possibilities. If he called Aurora, she would want to accompany him. He relished the prospect of not having to go alone. If Aurora was there with him it would make socializing and simply being in such a loud and crowded area much easier.

Wait, why was he thinking as if it was settled? He has yet to decide if he was even going to go yet, let alone his indecisiveness over calling his friend. This was all positively ridiculous. Benedikt slumped into the upholstered loveseat and removed his glasses so his fingers could freely rub at his eyes in exasperation. Magnus made sure not to persist or be too incredibly stubborn, and he never tried prying into Benedikt's life. He just knocked on the door, kindly invited the other, and left; all smiles and laughs and good fun.

In short, Benedikt would feel like a complete dick if he were to simply blow him off. With a hearty groan he lifted himself up, the impeccable grace in his movements still there but now with a sluggish feel. He was suddenly very tired. It felt as if he could sense each and every muscle and joint in his body and they all seemed to be screaming at him at once. He placed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose and made his way to the closet in his small but cozy bedroom.

He raided his closets insides to find an appropriate outfit for the occasion. Knowing anything about Magnus, Benedikt could only assume that this party was not suit and tie; which was a lot of what made up the purple warlocks wardrobe. He grunted in anger but continued. It was mostly all sweaters, vests, slacks, ties and button downs. Except for the few pieces of silken pajamas, which he was definitely _not_ going to wear to a party. How humiliating that turnout would become.

This was of no use and he was only going to become more infuriated by the process. He was going to have to call Aurora and have her help him round something together that wouldn't look as if he just got out of a strict job interview. Before he went searching for his cellular phone, he couldn't help but growl a single curse. It summed up the entirety of his scrambled emotions in one dirty syllable.

"Fuck."

If tomorrow doesn't kill him, he might already be dead.


End file.
